They Ran
by Servatis
Summary: They ran. They chose life, but could they outrun their own brothers? --- OneShot.


_**A/N: ** If some facts in this story are a little incorrect, it's because I haven't watched The Matrix in a while. I've been watching Revolutions while drinking green PowerAde and eating brownies. This is a little short… XD Please R&R._

**They Ran**

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They had watched Smith empty the entire clip of his Desert Eagle into Mr. Anderson's chest. They had watched as he fell against the wall, his crimson blood staining the wall. They had watched him die. Brown had checked for a pulse himself. There had been none, but that had been expected.

Mr. Anderson was dead.

Then they watched as he stood. They watched, stricken by fear and surprise, as The One got up and turned to face them. They opened fire on him, but he stopped the bullets in front of him by extending his hand. He looked at one of the bullets, dropped it, and the rest fell clattering to the ground. Jones held Brown back as they watched Smith charge at Neo. Neo blocked everything Smith threw at him, even just using one arm. Smith had been thrown but he had stood back up, no one could keep an Agent down for long.

Then the impossible happened.

Neo ran at Smith, who was prepared to land a punch on him, and leapt inside Smith. Fear washed over Smith, this wasn't supposed to be possible! Agents could not be deleted except by the Mainframe itself! How could it be possible? But he didn't have much time to think about it as his code started to be ripped and torn apart. Unspeakable pain overwhelmed Smith as he shone with the light of the Source itself and he fought. He fought to live, but it was no use… he exploded leaving The One standing where he had just been.

Agent Smith was deleted. Agent Smith was dead.

Neo looked up at them, waiting for them to react. A short, significant glance between the two; fear communicated through their earpieces along with the commands of the Mainframe to destroy the anomaly. They ignored the commands of the Mainframe, they were too afraid. There was only one other option left besides stand and be deleted…

They ran.

They ran in terror, they ran for their lives. Through the walls of the building, through the door and out of the tenement and out into a dingy alley that was lined with broken beer bottles and other disgusting litter. They had ran because they didn't want to end up like Smith. They didn't want to be deleted. The commands of the Mainframe changed quickly when it noticed this; it was now ordering them to report to the Agency to be deleted. They had failed their Purpose. They were useless. They were no longer needed.

So they ran, ran to live., ran into Exile.

They removed their earpieces and threw them over their shoulders. They threw the earpieces that had shackled them to the system for so long over their shoulders like the very trash that lay all around them. It didn't matter now to them what the commands of the Mainframe were. They would be replaced any time now if the Mainframe was ordering them to be deleted. Any section of the Matrix without a team of Agents assigned to it could go to ruin in seconds.

The footfalls of the new Agents were audible behind them. It didn't take long to code a new team of Agents, particularly when the Agents had already been in programming. Even if this never happened, they were still to be replaced. The Mainframe had detected malfunctions in all of them, first Smith, then Jones, and finally Brown. So the Mainframe did the only logically thing to do, it ordered the creation of new Agents. Better ones, that couldn't feel… Better Agents that didn't ask why when commanded.

New slaves for the Master, more efficient than the last.

Gunshots fired behind them, but they didn't stop running. They couldn't. One of the bullets hit Jones in the shoulder, sending out a small spray of simulated blood. It was believed that Agents didn't bleed, but the truth was no one lived long enough to be able to make a move on them that would draw blood. It was in their programming, just as it was in their programming to breath. Jones stumbled, but kept running alongside Brown.

Brown pulled out his Desert Eagle and shot blindly behind him until his clip, which was down to only two bullets, was empty. The only thing the bullets hit was the virtual air. One injured, both out of bullets, they tried to shift out of their current hosts. They couldn't. The Mainframe had blocked them from changing hosts. They were trapped.

A brick wall was directly in front of them, but it was too high for them to jump over it. It was strange to them to not be able to make a jump, but it seems the Matrix had been edited without them noticing to prevent their escape. The choice of deletion or exile had been made for them and the choice was not one they liked. There was no way out, not with three-upgraded Agent blocking their only exit.

"Ironic, isn't it? We've spent our entire existence chasing humans with the intent of killing them and this is how we are to die?" Jones smiled an insane smile.

Brown was confused for a moment, but nodded also smiling. It was true it was ironic. The hunters become the hunted.

"Poetic justice, more like." Spoke up one of the new Agents, their leader, Johnson.

"Look whose talking," replied Brown, "There will come a time where you will be no longer needed. You will get your 'poetic justice'."

"Nonsense."

A glance and a barely perceptible nod between the two and they ran towards the new Agents; they ran to their inevitable doom. They ran right at them and fought a loosing battle. They had ran to live and because of that they now run to their death. Together.

They ran in fear,

They fought against the inevitable,

They lived to die,

They died to live.

_Requiem aeternam dona eis, et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiesant in pace. _


End file.
